


Things that fall

by Tyelperintal



Series: Things that fall [1]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M, joseon era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyelperintal/pseuds/Tyelperintal
Summary: In which Dongju tries to write poetry, and Crown Prince Geonhak is either a distraction or an inspiration. A pseudo-Joseon Era AU.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion
Series: Things that fall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668757
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Things that fall

When he needs to clear his mind, Geonhak retreats to the gardens encompassed within the palace walls. On an autumn day like this one, the weather’s mild, and the air cool enough that he might have done better to find an overcoat before storming outside. But that’s the point; his temper is flaring into something hotter than he is comfortable with. Better to remove himself and reconsider in solitude.

Ruby-leaved trees that rustle when the wind picks up, a steel grey reflection of the sky in the carp pond that ripples; Geonhak inhales and exhales and places one foot in front of the other as he steps onto the wooden bridge. Symbolic—he’ll come back soon and pick up the worries he leaves at the shore, and go back to being the weary crown prince that he has to be for his people.

The people that as a rule, more or less in general, do not have the free and unguarded access to his gardens, which is why Geonhak halts when he reaches the opposite shore. His silk shoes hit the earth and plant themselves there, and he carefully folds his arms around the extra fabric of his sleeves.

There’s a man seated there. Comfortably, at that. He’s brought a small dining table with him, but it isn’t covered with food—instead, Geonhak sees inkwells, ink, brushes, and paper.

The man—no, he’s really more of a boy, isn’t he?—has his legs folded underneath him, and he’s looking up thoughtfully at the sky, evidently unbothered by Geonhak’s arrival. It’s awfully bold…

But of course it is. Geonhak recognizes him after a moment, registering the auburn hair, the slope of his nose that distinguishes him from his twin brother.

“Son Dongju?” Perhaps it’s fortunate that Geonhak’s voice naturally runs low, which is to say that he can be stern and intimidating even when he does not mean to. But there’s residual frustration from the argument he’s just had with his own advisors, and now he even feels guilty for letting it seep in.

Dongju’s gaze flickers in his direction. “Hello.”

“That’s not the proper way to greet a crown prince.”

“You told me to stop bowing last time we met,” Dongju answers, but his voice wavers in obvious uncertainty.

“I did not mean indefinitely,” Geonhak protests. He sighs, unfolds his arms, and wanders closer to where the younger man is sitting. “You’re not supposed to be here. Who let you past the guards?”

“You’re very irritable today,” Dongju says, now observing the rippling water. There are carp gathered nearby, their fins breaching the top of the water. “The guards.”

A second passes, and then Geonhak realizes that is not repetition of his question, but an answer to it. “Seoho?”

Dongju’s ensuing silence feels like confirmation.

Being stern with Seoho for bending the rules is a problem for the crown prince to take care of later, and so Geonhak pushes the thought aside. Of course, being stern with Dongju is also a problem for the crown prince to take care of later, by the same logic.

“What are you writing?” he asks, voice softening. It takes a couple paces until he can move to stand closer. A couple of seconds to decide that propriety be damned, he can kneel in the thin grass next to Dongju’s writing desk; it’s his palace and his gardens and no one has the right to tell him otherwise.

Dongju’s hand twitches, and a drop of ink falls from the goat hair at its tip. “I wanted to write a poem.”

It’s tempting to look over at the paper and admire the younger boy’s progress, but Geonhak resists the temptation. “It’s a nice day for writing,” he agrees. “What will it be about?”

Dongju glances over at him from under the brim of his hat, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Different things,” comes the vague answer after a moment passes. “Whatever I think of … Youngjo gave me some of his books. I felt inspired.”

At the mention of his half-brother, Geonhak tenses. “You have been spending time with him?”

Dongju nods and sets the brush down. “He noticed me talking to Hwanwoong. He’s been very nice to me.”

Geonhak frowns. Youngjo … he adores Youngjo. Half his brother, but wholly his friend since they were children; it’s political forces that try to drive a wedge between them. It’s the reason Geonhak is hiding out here rather than facing the advisors who tell him day after day that an elder half-brother is a threat to his inheritance and should be disposed of.

Youngjo, like Dongju says, is kind. Clever, and sometimes shy in a way that reads like arrogance to those who don’t know him … and popular with the court ladies, too, for what that is worth.

Geonhak eyes Dongju again, from the corner of his eye.

Ah …

“I would be happy to give you more books,” he finds himself blurting out before he can think better of it.

It’s not a competition, no. Youngjo’s kind to sponsor the hopeful young poet, and Geonhak won’t find fault with it.

But said hopeful young poet has wide doe eyes and hair that’s russet like the autumn leaves, especially when the open sunlight hits it (thus, not today). There’s always something slightly wicked about his smile, yes, but in a way that’s amusing rather than conniving; he’s elegant, tall with wand-like slimness, and a surprisingly deep voice when he offers his (usually sharp) words. 

Dongju is someone Youngjo would understandably like. People who are intelligent and handsome are sometimes hard to come by, though Geonhak has done his best to gather them around him and guard them close.

“I don’t need more books.” Dongju’s fingers, now free of the brush, tap against the edge of his table. A pattern. _One, two-three. One, two-three._

A leaf spins through the air and lands near the eddying water around the carps’ fins.

“What can I give you instead?” Geonhak asks as he watches the leaf’s path.

Dongju is quiet; somehow it gives the impression that he has something he wants to say, but refuses, as his silences usually do. He’s too sharp-tongued to be at a loss for words or caught with an empty head.

“Please?” Geonhak prompts.

When Dongju angles his head to peer over at Geonhak, the movement seems more pronounced, courtesy of the wide-brimmed silk hat he wears. Geonahk turns too; he’s met with searching brown eyes under a slightly crooked brow. “—A kiss.”

And Geonhak feels his cheeks flush. He wonders if he can blame it on the cool autumn air, on the lack of overcoat above his court finery. Dongju is too bold, and he should tell him so. “Ah…”

Dongju blinks, but even his thick eyelashes aren’t enough to hide the little devious gleam in his eye. “I can ask Youngjo.”

“No.” Geonhak is still blushing, but his hand darts out to capture Dongju’s forearm. “No, I … if you’ll let me. Please. If…” No, it’s not a good impression; he forces himself to inhale another breath of the crisp autumn air. As crown prince, he’s sheltered to a certain extent, but he shouldn’t be this helpless, either—he’s held his ground against men twice his age in debate and at sword point, too. A kiss should be no source of frustration.

Geonhak’s hand is still careful as he reaches out, a finger following the silk cord that loops under Dongju’s chin to hold his hat in place. He adjusts his position as he kneels, and gently slides the hat—the obstacle—away from the younger man’s hair, to leave it resting at the back of his neck.

His hand finds its way back to Dongju’s chin, though, then briefly along the straight line of his jaw, before Geonhak leans in and touches his lips to the corner of Dongju’s.

The angle is wrong, uncomfortable even, with the desk and papers in the way, even with the slope of the ground as it dives toward the pond. Yet Geonhak is hardly aware. In the moment, it’s the softness of Dongju’s lips, the sound of their breath mingling between them, the way both of them adjust so their lips connect and lock into place on the second kiss.

Dongju had only asked for one.

Geonhak draws back, eyes wide and searching for any sign of complaint on Dongju’s face—but he finds none. Only an upturned smile that flickers away as soon as he notices Geonhak’s stare.

“That will suffice,” Dongju says, and hastily looks down. He’s reaching for the ink brush again, and he raises both hands to gather the fabric of his sleeves together so they won’t trail in the ink.

Geonhak finds his hand reaching to intercept Dongju’s. “I want to know more about what inspires you,” he says quietly, his gaze following the path of his own thumb as it travels across Dongju’s wrist, then over the back of his hand.

“I’m still learning,” Dongju admits, and he steals a curious glance towards Geonhak again. Geonhak, who is still kneeling in the mud and grass in court finery and moments away from betraying himself with a shiver, the tips of his ears and the span of his cheekbones noticeably scarlet.

If Seoho is minding his duties at the gate with more care now, there will be no one else to witness the prince’s lapse in propriety.

“Yes. Well.” Geonhak’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and he imagines that he might still taste a hint of Dongju there. Like honey, or else like a fleck of dried hot pepper. Dongju is like both. “Books can only teach so much.”

Dongju gives a hum of agreement, and spends a moment fixated on one of the red-leaved maples lining the shore of the pond. An intrepid bird is warbling somewhere in the braches, and further away, a crow voices a complaint.

“Youngjo said the same thing, you know,” Dongju says. “…I think I see what he meant.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Leedo was a personal name of 15th century King Sejong. 
> 
> Dongju was the name of a famous 20th century Korean poet. 
> 
> Youngjo was the name of an 18th century Joseon king. 
> 
> I wanted to write something in an AU that borrows from some of these historical figures, but none of them are directly supposed to represent them, if that makes sense! I also want to revisit this AU in a longer fic, but at the moment I don't have a lot of time to devote to it, so it'll have to be a series of related oneshots for now. 
> 
> Keonhee and Hwanwoong didn't make it into this fic, but I have a few ideas for how they would fit into this AU too. They'll be included if I write more. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!


End file.
